Beautiful Demise
by doodlefreak
Summary: This is a way I can control him. This is a way I can finally see him conform to what I want, no matter how little control it is, I can watch him melt and tighten and flex and hurt. I can’t get enough of it. Shizuo/Izaya, Shizaya.


I've been pretty much just filling kink meme prompts for this fandom on LJ, but figured I might as well write a real story too. It's Shizaya, and hopefully I caught that certain aspect of Izaya's voice that just screams "yes I am a psychotic psychopath but I'm a hot one so you don't care". No one really expresses that as well as Narita, though. Sorry for any errors in using present-tense. I always have trouble with that.

Warnings: Light M themes. Nothing explicitly described, but that is the situation.  
Disclaimer: I do not own Durarara!!, nor do I make any profit from this.

_Enjoy_~

* * *

Heiwajima Shizuo.

He is a human—the _only_ human—that I truly hate. Without him, I could truly say that I love all humankind. He is a detestable creature put on this planet, and I really despise him. It's because he doesn't do anything according to plan. He's always the one to ruin my expectations, my fun, and throw every bit of sane correspondence that I had taken into account so precisely out the window. As soon as he shows up, I can expect everything to fall apart most times, but sometimes, sometimes things go right for me. It's because I can never tell when and when I cannot control what he does that I can't stand him.

I don't like not knowing.

I rule the human web of gossip and truths in this town. Being an information broker is a way of earning money, it's the way I continue living the way I do; so luxuriously and carefree. I can gaze out my window all day and look down on mankind. All of them wonderful, beautiful, _mine_. Except for him. I hate him. I can freely narrow my eyes and look away in disgust if he is among the humans that are so irresistible. Everything, he ruins everything that is pure and wretched and gorgeous about them. He makes them tainted in an unsatisfying way. He's not fit to walk amongst them, not fit to ruin my view of mankind. And yet he is as uncaring and ignorant to all of this as he is everything else. A brutish mind such as that doesn't belong in what I consider as beautiful, for he is everything _but_ beautiful. Why can't he see that and just _die_ already?

"_Stop laughing."_

It doesn't help that the most I can get my flickblade to pierce him is 5 millimeters. Those muscles, so wiry and harmless looking at first glance, so _pathetic_, become monstrosities in his blind rage, and I can't kill him. All of his vital organs are either too inaccessible or roughly protected by the steely, adrenaline-pumped muscles whenever he is reduced to such a state. A car or truck is only worth one hit, and it still can't kill him. I suppose I could merely get him pinned somewhere, somehow, and run him over a few hundred times to get him thoroughly dead, but what would the fun be in that? There would be no fulfillment in killing _that guy_ in such a way. It has to be planned, it has to be up to coincidence, it has to be all up to me and it has to have at least some chance of escape for him, but yet not.

"_I'll kill you."_

I don't kill people. I exchange information, I _manipulate_ but never kill. That's not the way things should be done. It's not fun, it's not thrilling, there's no satisfaction in seeing any reaction if everything isn't all up to them, all their fault. But I supposed Shizu-chan is different from humans. He should not have the same treatment as them, it shouldn't matter what kind of reactions he has to death, because I want him dead. That's all I want, a dead Heiwajima Shizuo, and I can continue my life's goal; loving humans.

It would be so blissful.

But he could have been a pawn, a wonderful pawn, if not for that dimwitted rage of his that he always slipped into, and that unwillingness to cooperate with me. It made him undesirable for anything, and now I just want him gone.

But even so…

"_Fuck, stop _moving_ already. Just die."_

I laugh, because it's all so completely messed up.

"S-Shizu-chan, I don't think you'd… ah… enjoy it very much then, would you?"

"Shut up! I'm not enjoying it _now_," he grunts, becoming oblivious to my suppressed chuckles and pain. I curse him over and over again in my mind, wanting to reach for my knife, but being unable to because if I did, he would snap, and there would go everything I had planned for and I couldn't have that.

"I… hah, I really _hate_ you, Shizu-chan."

He thrusts into me, and for a second, everything is glorious and pleasure clouds my brain like walking through a throng of people on an overcrowded street, or seeing the face of a young girl on the fringe of suicide morph into something painful and filled with tormented surprise as she screams in rage, or manipulating the wires and tangles of the web that seem to wind itself throughout Toyko into an intricate pattern that hails me at the top. And then it's gone, swiped away by the changing of position, the feeling of open wind of the rooftop him and I were on by the result of our superior parkour techniques brushing across my heated skin uncomfortably, and the gravel sticking to my wet skin scratching it, making bruises and slicing open cuts that ooze sticky blood everywhere. It's unpleasant, just like Shizu-chan.

What I don't like about Shizu-chan is that I can't understand him. He manipulates me just as much as I manipulate him, which isn't much because of both of our unwillingness. We're at a standstill, always a standstill, never reaching anywhere new, never exploring foreign ground, nothing would ever change when it came to him. I'm not sure I like that, because it's never happened to me. The only thing that is constant, that I know will always be constant, is the love that I share for all of mankind. That will never cease to exist, but this, this never-ending chase of cat and mouse is insufferable. I want him dead. I want him to suffer. I want to see his face crumble with dread and the fear of his impending demise. He who isn't prone to loving or sadness or fear, he who only ever shows a passion for rage, does not deserve anything less than death.

An unsightly one.

But I still can't kill him. So this, this is almost fine. This is almost just as good, because when this happens I can see a sliver of something other than rage, I can see his face morph into something painful and agonizing. I can see his eyes glaze over, and his knuckles turn white from something other than a grip that is much too tight on a vending machine about to be flung through the air, and his muscles contract in the most gratifying of ways _all because of me_. This is a way I can control him. This is a way I can finally see him conform to what I want, no matter how little control it is, I can watch him melt and tighten and flex and _hurt_. I can't get enough of it.

No matter the punches, the bruises, and cuts and the bite marks that might prove to be troubling a little later on, this will be entertaining. It'll bring me one step closer to something worthwhile, something I can firmly grasp onto in the means of this man.

This… yes, this will be my new hobby. Sex with Heiwajima Shizuo, the start of a beautiful demise.


End file.
